


Dirty Angel

by C_Rown



Series: Once Shot [2]
Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Angel!Misaki, Angel/Demon Relationship, Angst with a Happy Ending, Clubbing, Demon!Saruhiko, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Sarumi Fest 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-28 06:30:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19806622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/C_Rown/pseuds/C_Rown
Summary: An angel could never understand a demon. A creature pure of feelings could never understand a soul longing for memory of humanity.Is keeping memories of their past such a sin, and is feeling human again so unpure? To work together, Saruhiko and Misaki must put aside their issues, to uncover the mystery of disappearing angels and demons and maybe, along the way, lost memories of the past can resurface?Join my K Project and anime centered discord server and chat with others here: https://discord.gg/HFDCzCu





	Dirty Angel

**Author's Note:**

> This work has a small soundtrack, which I suggest you listen to while reading:
> 
> [Devil's Den](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IGdWZRRF4o4''%20rel=)
> 
> [Dirty Angel](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=eXvk0MeckLo) (Song I got the name of the fic from; when the fic starts talking about a female singer is the best part where to start playing this song)
> 
> The soundtrack is recommended but not forced, so read as you like.

Through all his years spent in High-Angel Mikoto's care, Misaki had never questioned his judgment, actions or his decisions. He trusted the man with his young angel soul, forever grateful he had taken him and his friends' dying souls from the wet and sinking ditch that fateful night, and turned him into a child of the Heavens, since then, Misaki had sworn his undying loyalty to him. But, he was on the verge of questioning, if that decision was the right one.

Mikoto was one of the oldest High-Angels of the White Citadel, but the young angel didn't think he was that old to have become senile. So, as he sat on the polished steps by Mikoto's throne, wings lying sprawled on the floor, resembling a confused fallen bird, Misaki was mulling over the task that his Lord had just presented him with.

Homra was a proud faction of angels under Mikoto's rule, all consisting of young souls taken too soon from the mortal realm and turned into pure children of Heaven. All its members had sworn to serve the faction as long as they should exist, given the chance to live on in the beautiful and pure realm. But, alas, there had been one more member in their midst not so long ago. The dark haired boy that had been dug out of the freezing cold ditch along with Misaki that night 4 years ago. Mikoto had bestowed them both with the eternal life of an angel, but in the process, Misaki had lost his mortal memory, missing important pieces of his life and connection to the lanky pale boy. He knew enough they had a relationship in the mortal realm, but exactly what had the relationship been or how they had ended up together, trying to stay alive in a ditch by a burning house was still a mystery. Mikoto had tried assuring them that in due time, the memories would show up, but just as much they would be forever lost. Given that information, the boy, who was named Saruhiko had grown to resent the High-Angel and kept to himself as much as he could, but Misaki would sometimes spot him looking longingly at him when he thought he wasn't looking. 

Misaki had tried to get closer to the boy, hoping it would make him happier and possibly return his memory, but as soon as he tried to get closer, the boy drifted back into the shadows. He didn't join the rest of the angels in the ceremonies or missions, he just sat sulking in his bedchamber, but one thing had become noticeable, and it was his growing hatred towards the High-Angel. The duo's rooms were put next to each other, in hopes their past life would catch up, but it never did. Some nights, Misaki could hear screaming from behind the wall, some he could hear muffled crying, but others it was complete silence. Those nights Misaki was most scared of.

When it had become too late, they had found out what had been happening to Saruhiko. Over time, his eyes had sunken into his skull, his snow-white wings were losing the pure color and the beautiful feathers, turning ashy gray. Misaki had thought the boy was growing ill and tried to help, but his attempts at affection were turned away with a wall of crumbling wings, a scoff, a glare, and a door slammed into his face. He had left the boy alone, but it had been the biggest mistake he had ever made. 

A few days later, Saruhiko's room was empty, save from his bed, which had been left looking as if a bird was skinned. The soft white sheets were colored in dark red spots and soft feathers ranged in colors from white to gray and then a rare pitch black.

Saruhiko had made himself fall. 

His bedside table contained a silver dagger and was stuffed with pulled, bloody feathers. The poor angel had made a sin of harming his heavenly body and thus was pulled down to the realm of sinners - the Hellfire Citadel. That realm belonged to a man named Munakata, and he took in damaged souls, souls that could not find peace in the mortal realm and neither in the Heavens. Not all his subjects were cruel, just torn in their deepest part of the soul. He ruled over them as just as a demon lord could. Their missions consisted of leading other torn souls to their realm and investigating intentional soul corruptions.

Even though Mikoto had informed Misaki that Saruhiko would be safe in Munakata's care and that it was his own choice to fall, Misaki blamed himself. He knew his lost memories had a part that played in the fallen angel's decision, and the guilt of not being able to save him was eating the redhead from the inside. He longed to remember his past life, only coming close to fuzzy visions in his dreams, that always made him wake up with wet cheeks. Years passed and the sadness had soured into bitterness and a hint of resentment. He had tried to get closer to Saruhiko, but he never let him get close. When Misaki had left his position as an apprentice and had become a proper angel at age 20, his heart had come to resent the traitor fallen angel who had taken the White Citadel for granted, but deep down, the rainy and muddy memory of them laying in the ditch, hands joined together in a tight hold and a whisper that sounded like it was spoken underwater, was still clinging to the angel's heart, waiting.

\----

''Um, Lord Mikoto, are you sure about this idea? I am in no way trying to protest your will, but, working together with a Hellfire demon? Do they not have enough of their own for this job?'' Misaki questioned carefully, lest he angers the High-Angel.

''Munakata says they need a pure angel for the job since it does entail our kind. And since you haven't gone for a big mission in a while, I think you are suitable for the job.''

The job was a dangerous one. The past couple of months, groups of angels and as well as demons had gone missing, then returning as piles of ashes, or in the worst cases, corrupted souls, that only mindlessly kill and disintegrate from their sinfulness. Munakata had sent a message to the Citadel, asking for an angel that could join one of his strongest to investigate a lead they had finally gotten.

''I imagine it will not be too hard for you since you're the purest of the angels in Homra. And I think it's worth it to see where our children have gone to.'' Mikoto groaned out, looking Misaki over, who still looked unsure. With a huff, the angel pulled out one of his largest feathers, pulled on both ends and the white feather turned into a beautiful necklace, a small pendant in the shape of a horn dangling from it. ''If the job proves to be too difficult, or you find yourself in trouble, blow on this and I'll send down a horse for you. But I imagine it shouldn't come to that.''

Finally giving in, Misaki took the chain and clasped it around his neck and waited for the instructions.

\----

The chariot let him out in what looked like a city downtown at night, and as he climbed out, Misaki's heavenly attire and wings disappeared, a maroon jumpsuit, dark sneakers and a beanie taking their place. The information he was given had said that his demonic partner was waiting just down the street in a cemetery, from where they would then head towards the location that was found during the investigation.

The last time Misaki had set foot in the mortal realm, was when he was dying, gasping for breath and grasping the hand of a fallen angel. Shaking his head free from the morbid memory, Misaki turned the corner and there it was.

The gate of the cemetery was crooked from old age in some places, the gates missing one side of the door, two small angel statues rusted over, leaving only small, dirty specks of gold to indicate their lost beauty. As Misaki headed inside, the gate creaked, making the young angel shiver. An overgrown path led through the grounds and following it for a while, Misaki come upon a small chapel. Its roof looked like a large object had smashed into it, it was missing its doors entirely and some windows had holes in them, the beautiful artwork destroyed mainly in the places where the heads of Heaven's children seemed to have once been. Was it just vandalism or a crime done in hatred was unclear.

On the rotting steps, Misaki spotted a long, dark figure sitting hunched over. They were wearing a hooded jacket, which obscured their face, but the light coming from a device they were holding gave enough to know they were wearing glasses. 

A stray stick broke beneath the angel's foot, alerting his partner that they had company. The figure slowly rose to its feet, stashing the glowing device in their jackets pocket. As they came closer, Misaki could tell it was a male, their figure free of curves, the frame lanky, standing on long thin legs. Something nagged in Misaki's brain, but he buried it down as fast as it appeared. The figure stopped a few feet away from him, then let out a familiar scoff.

''Damn, do they really have nobody up there anymore?'' The voice sounded tired and bored, and so familiar. The figure pulled back their hood, and with a groan, Misaki closed his eyes.

Saruhiko.

He had gotten taller in the past 4 years and had grown older. His baby fat had disappeared, leaving behind strong, sharp cheekbones and pale skin. His eyes didn't look like they were sinking into his head, and were now deep ocean blue, hidden behind stylish black frames. His hair had gotten longer and was styled to stick up at the sides of his head, a small cuff earring made of silver chains fell down his right ear. His clothes looked a bit too loose, so it was easy to spot an angry red mark on his collarbone, the place where Mikoto had placed their angel mark. It looked as if a wild animal had sunk their claws into it and tried to tear it out, and the injury had never healed properly. Next to it, a dark, ink black mark, that formed a circle with a sword with a snake around it inside, sat. The brand for the Hellfire Citadel, Scepter 4.

''Long time no see, Misaki.'' The way Saruhiko said his name made his skin crawl, but a deep sadness was evident in his tone.

A large knot had formed in the redhead's throat, so it took a moment to clear it enough so he could speak.

''So, you're one of Munakata's strongest now?'' His voice came out laced with venom, to mask the slight hint of disappointment. A creepy smile formed on his partners face, eyes glinting with malice.

''And? So what if I am? It's better to be down there, where your humanity, your past is forever with you, no matter how painful it is or was. Not like up there, where unworthy trash are given a chance to begin everything anew with a blank slate.'' 

''How dare you!'' Saruhiko's words brought out Misaki's anger. ''We are all family in the White Citadel, we are all grateful to be given a new chance, a pure chance at life, a life to devote to the Heaven that was merciful enough to save us! Not like you, who took it for granted and tried to destroy your gift!''

''You think erasing everything you once were is a gift!? The ability to not have an ounce of humanity inside you, not feeling pain or anything human. Just an empty, sinless, unfeeling shell, doomed to fall to your knees to some overgrown birds! Not to mention, your heavenly purity is nothing but a laughingstock.'' Saruhiko spit with anger. He turned his back and started to leave, but the quick steps behind him made him stop.

''Our purity is what makes us who we are! Without it, we are not children of the Heavens.''

''You really think everybody up there shares the same sentiment as you? You really think there are not others like me, who can't stand living in a fake body, a fake mind? Nobody that longs to feel human again, to feel what was once taken from them, that they could never reach again, while trapped in that birdcage? You ever stop and think, if Heaven's children actually wanted to be one in the first place? To some of us, the White Citadel is more of a hell than the Hellfire Citadel.'' Saruhiko finished with a mocking smile, but a glint in his eyes made him turn away from the frozen angel.

The demon didn't make it far when a soft voice rang out.

''That's why you made yourself fall? Just because you would never again have me like you did before? Was my lost memory so painful for you?'' The sad voice said behind him.

''If you really think so highly of yourself, you've been living up in the clouds for too long.'' Saruhiko stopped and turned around carefully.''But if you so desperately want to know, yes. It was one of the reasons I made myself fall. Living a false life, you not remembering anything, made me feel disgusting to be called an angel. No angel should ever feel like I was feeling, and in time I understood I was never meant to be an angel, as I still had all my painful memories left of you. You, on the other hand,'' the demons face pulled into a disgusted snarl, ''were quick to abandon everything you, us, once were. You forgot, because its what you wanted, you thought that forgetting that dirty ditch would be for the better. You can be pure because you wanted to start over. With or without me.''

Saruhiko mentioning the ditch made Misaki's mind jerk to the memory. The both of them wet and dirty, sinking in the mud as cold rain washed over them, a burning house in the distance the only light source. Saruhiko's face looked like someone had beat it into a fall, his pale face covered in blue and black bruises. A thin stream of blood trickled down his arm to their clasped together hands. Trembling, the young Saruhiko dragged their joined hands to his bruised lips and placed a shaky kiss on them. He said something, but the fog in Misaki's mind didn't allow him to hear it, as it always did.

Broken free from his memory, Misaki returned to the present, watching his partner leaving down the path. Wiping his eyes free of tears, the angel ran after and almost past him.

''Did I say you can come along?'' Drawled the demon, but the angel just stood up straight and puffed out his chest.

''I was sent by the White Citadel on a mission to assist you. Unlike you, I still serve it.'' As he mentioned the Citadel, Saruhiko rolled his eyes and scoffed, but didn't say anything. And when Misaki was still following him, he didn't make a sound of complaint.

\-----

They had been walking for about 20 minutes when a large neon sign came into view. _Den Of The Fallen_ it read. The sign flashed in colors of red, blue and purple and a small crowd was formed outside the door, which was guarded by two massive figures clad in full-body robes, heads covered by hoods. They let people inside one by one, and some they sent away, but the line was getting smaller by the second. 

''Why are we at a mortal club?'' The angel asked, confused. Only another couple was in front of them, so the bouncers shifted as they heard them say that. When it was their turn, Saruhiko pulled down his shirt so the Scepter 4 mark was visible. With a head jerk, the bouncer motioned them to head inside.

''Who said this was a mortal club? Those stupid teens that they sent away were mortals.'' Saruhiko informed as they headed deeper inside. Behind the entrance was a long hallway that blinked white and green, making Misaki's eyes hurt. As they were coming closer to the exit of the hallway, the pounding sound of music was getting louder and louder. Just before they went behind the heavy black curtain that separated the hallway from the club room, Saruhiko mumbled quietly.

''I hope the White Citadel has enough decency to dress you a bit more appropriately.'' With that, he pulled the curtain away and they found themselves on a glass balcony with stairs leading down on both sides. What was strange, was that the room was completely empty and the music that was just pounding sounded like it was drowned out by water.

''Its...empty?'' Misaki asked confused when a sudden streak of moonlight filtered in through the ceiling and looking through it, Misaki finally saw.

The booming music went from drowned to almost ear-piercing, and the millions of colorful lights didn't do much better for the eyes. Where just a few moments ago the dance floor was empty, it was now suddenly filled with gyrating bodies, small platforms off to the side housing occupants. But the clubbers weren't ordinary mortals. The floor was filled with demons...and missing angels. Large cages that swung from the ceiling housed dancers, both male and female, demon and angel in their realms attires. Startled by a cold breeze from a nearby open window, Misaki suddenly realized his legs were suddenly bare. Looking down, he saw his Citadel outfit once again, the long, pure white toga that fell to his knees and the long slits down the sides of his legs. His golden laced sandals were stuck in a neon pink puddle of an unknown drink. It seemed weird that he hadn't felt the weight of his wings back on his back, but the sensory overload did have its role in it. Looking to his right, he almost jumped out his skin and turned pink in the face at the same time.

Saruhiko's casual outfit had fallen away as well, now leaving him dressed entirely in black. His long legs were trapped in tight pants, feet sitting inside dark ankle boots on a small heel. His shirt was as black as night and a choker coming from his neck and falling down to his thin waist was tied in a star form, decorated with shiny crystals. His long hair was tied at his neck in a small ponytail and small swirling goat's horns were sticking out from the sides of his head. Large bat-like leathery wings had sprouted out from his back.

''Now you see, how important your people's purity is?'' Saruhiko gestured to the floor beneath them. Angels were dancing with demons, with fellow angels or by themselves. Their movements, although, didn't display purity. They were gyrating against each other or in groups, movements resembling fornication more than dancing. The caged angels by the ceiling were dressed scarcely, their heavenly attire just mere scraps covering their most intimate parts. Those that didn't partake in dancing were laying off to the side caught in actual fornication or suggestive positions, some having the decency to cover their deeds with their trembling wings, but other seemed to enjoy the fact that they could be seen doing something so private. The tamest ones just lounged around in a partners lap and sipped brightly colored drinks so strong, Misaki could smell them from where they were currently standing. The display proved to be too much for the angel in about 5 seconds before he covered his field of vision with his wings.

With a snort, Saruhiko started his descend down the stairs, Misaki hurrying behind him, softly grabbing at a leathery wing. It felt strange under his fingers, but not in a bad way. Once they left the stairs, Saruhiko led them through a small path towards the glistening bar by the wall, and once the angel felt the solid seat he immediately jumped on it, still shielding his vision on both sides. He heard his demon partner plop down next to him, calling for a bartender. A young woman strolled towards them, no visible indications if she was a demon or an angel. Her golden hair was pulled to the side, a strange tattoo on the side of her neck.

''One Devil's Letter, extra whiskey,'' Saruhiko asked, emphasizing the last two words, as of they were a hidden message. With a small smile and a nod, the girl disappeared to a make the drink and Misaki finally decided to open his mouth.

''Where in gods name are we?!'' The words came out weak and squeaky, still cautious of their surroundings.

''Den Of The Fallen. I thought you at least were taught to read up there?'' A smack of a white wing to his face stopped Saruhiko's smirk from forming.''As I said before. Did you really think that every single angel likes to be robbed of mortal pleasures they were robbed of? This is a place where they all escape every week. A place where they can be fallen without falling, still be considered pure by your blind High-Angels, but be as sinful as much as they like without being punished.

''So this is the place where all the angels have gone missing to?'' Anger slowly started to form inside the redhead.

''No, but the lead led us here. A witness has said that once they go inside, they never come out. Here's where they find the ashes or the corrupted souls.''

''And you lead us here knowing that?!'' Misaki almost yelled, pulling down his wings, until he saw too much naked skin in the corner of his eye, and pulled that side back up.

''Nothing is gonna happen to you. That's why Munakata asked for one of you who was still pure. Didn't think they were gonna send you, but at least I can obviously see you're the real deal.''

The girl with Saruhiko's order came back and he slipped her a wad of money. The girl winked at him, before slipping away to another customer. The gesture made the angels skin crawl as he saw watched the demon tip his glass back and his throat bobbing as he downed the liquid, making Misaki's throat go dry. With a grimace, Saruhiko put down the glass, pulled his wings around him and spit something in his hand. It looked like an ordinary pill, but he popped it open and a tiny piece of paper slipped out. 

As Saruhiko was busy with whatever that was, the pounding music seemed to die down and the crowd started to cheer. What seemed like a young woman in a long flowy dress was carried on the stage in the back of the club, her eyes blindfolded and a heavy-looking chain was hanging from her neck down her back. The men that had carried her on placed her down on a podium covered in soft blankets and pillows, before joining her. A silver microphone came down from a dancer cage hanging over the girls head, and the music kicked back on. The woman started to sing, her words soft and dangerous at the same time as if capturing the whole dancefloor with her song. Couples flooded the dancefloor, but this time, Misaki didn't shy away. He still felt shame for looking, but he couldn't stop staring at the singer on the stage, currently being caressed by the men and women that surrounded her.

His stare broke, as Saruhiko pulled him by the hand and dragged them both amidst the dancers, careful to not touch any of them. They settled close to the stage and pretended to dance.

''Angelique,'' Saruhiko whispered the name in Misaki's neck, pretending to snuggle up like most of the dancers were to their partners. ''The name is supposedly of the one who makes the corrupted souls.'' The name seemed familiar, but the angel couldn't quite put a finger on it. It was the name of a child of the Heavens, that much he was sure of. Still lost in thought, Saruhiko pulled him by the hand and led them in a more convincing dance, pulling the angels back to his front and grabbing hold of his slim waist. As if in a trance, the redhead shifted his wings out of the way to accommodate his partner. 

The strobe lights were clouding his vision, the clubroom becoming blurry. The faint sound of crackling wood and the smell of fresh rain pulled him closer. Dark shadows scratched over him, and the sounds of screams and psychotic laughter pushed their way in Misaki's closed eyes.

A man, similar looking to his demon partner ran towards him, a broken piece of wood in his hands, a crazed smile on his face. A scream next to him sounded through his mind like a siren. The environment suddenly changed and hot pain came down his arm. The smell of fire was encasing him, and he felt himself being pulled to a chest in a protective hug. The scene changed again, the laughter from before now drowned out, and pain shot down his wings. A moment later he found himself in the muddy ditch again, but this time, he could hear, like water had drained from his ears.

.... _I swore to protect you.....said to leave....you promised....please.....whatever...don't take him....._

With a gasp, Misaki found himself back in the loud club and the singer's words suddenly made sense to him. The woman was one of the Higher-Angels, who had been in charge of punishing the sinners, or in other words, making them...forget. Her view on sins was a corrupted one, brutally punishing those who fit her standarts. Her methods had been deemed immoral and she had been thrown out of the White Citadel. Another power she possessed, was to manipulate sinful minds with her songs, making them feel safe. Misaki finally understood what was going on. In revenge for being shut out of Heaven, she lured Heaven's and Hellfire's children, promising a safe place, but alas it was a trap.

Turning around, the angel tried to get his partners attention, but Saruhiko's eyes had clouded over, just like all the other dancers. The song was taking over their minds, and sensing trouble, Misaki pulled the dark-haired demon by the hand, spotting a fire exit nearby. Before he could reach for the door, out of the corner of his eye, he could see Angelique discarding her pure look, her dress falling off her shoulders, her two rows of ash-colored wings revealing themselves from the podium, her blindfold falling off and exposing her midnight black eyes, no whitness visible in them. They locked eyes, her voice reaching a high and Misaki knew he had to get out or at least protect Saruhiko from her, so he did the first thing he could think of.

He turned around quickly and taking a breath, placed a virginal kiss on Saruhiko's lips, transferring a piece of his purity, just enough to get them out of the singers reach. They stumbled out of the club into the dirty alleyway, still liplocked, the angel slowly breaking it to slam the door shut. Mortal air had never felt so fresh, after leaving the Den Of The Fallen, and it took a few moments before Saruhiko snapped out of his trance, fingers brushing over his buzzing lips. Muffled screams of euphoria and horror came from the others side of the door and having caught enough breath, the redhead grabbed his pendant and blew into the small charm, before grabbing the demon by his hand and dashing as far away from the club as possible.

\-----

A white winged horse was waiting for them by the entrance of the cemetery, a large soft cloud with down pillows behind it. In a flurry, Misaki launched Saruhiko on the cloud, before jumping on himself and cracking the horse's reigns, which took them up into the night sky. They stayed silent for a while, the angel trying to catch his breath and control the buzzing inside his mind, the freshly returned memories burning him from the inside. 

''I'm sorry...I broke my promise.'' A moment later, Misaki whimpered out, a stray tear falling down his cheek, as he looked at the man, the boy who had sacrificed his life to keep him safe, and he was dumb enough to break his promise to leave if by chance things would ever go wrong. Saruhiko's eyes widened in understanding.

''You remember? You remember...me?'' He asked unsure, hope laced in his words. Tearfully, the angel nodded, pulling the demon closer, laying down on the pillows.

''I remember more than that. I remember us.'' With a hiccup, he pulled Saruhiko down for a deeper kiss, a kiss his father had robbed them of while they were alive. A kiss that revealed how close they had been, but could still be now, because they had died in each-others arms, never letting go until they shared their last breath next to each other. A kiss Saruhiko returned with fervor, his slightly pointed serpent's tongue slipping inside his angel's mouth, mapping it and storing the memory of it deep down in his brain. His black painted nails scratched up a smooth leg, disappearing under the slits of Misaki's toga, touching every part of bare skin he could lay his hands on. 

Purity the last thing on his mind, the angel slipped his trembling fingers underneath his demons black silk shirt, dragging his fingernails down his back, leaving red marks in their wake. As they rose higher in the sky, so did Saruhiko's hands rise higher on his lovers back, running his fingertips over the place Misaki's wings connected to his back, the sensitive place drawing out a soft moan of pleasure. He understood what the clubgoers had longed for, being robbed from feeling this way was a crime. But his faith still belonged to his savior, without Mikoto, he would have never reunited with his tragically lost lover. But his faith wasn't of concern as he let himself sink further back into the soft pillows of the cloud, as Saruhiko's lips slipped down his neck and then further down. The air around them was brisk for summer, but it did nothing to cool them down. The fire that burned inside them both, a fire that didn't allow them to forget the pleasures of the mortal realm, would never go out. That night, the cries of birds and the whistling of the wind was accompanied by cries of pleasure from lovers reunited.

As Misaki woke up on the cloud, skin bare but for his slightly torn toga draped over him lovingly, he understood his lover had returned to his own realm. The cloud they had made love on had stopped midway to heaven, since the fallen could never return and together they had spent the night underneath the starry sky, carving the memory of the warmth of each-others skin into their brains forever. Pain shot up the angel's spine as he sat up, a pain he had forgotten in his purity. Rustling his wings, his eyes spotted their color. They were not a pure snow-white, but a very light ash color. It wasn't enough to become a Fallen, but it was a noticeable enough indicator, that his purity was lost. His status was not lost, he had just recovered the memories he had been robbed of. But his decision to lay with a demon and lose his virginity had taken enough purity away.

Enough, to become a Dirty Angel.

A choice he would never regret.


End file.
